


Averting Disaster

by scholarlydragon



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, First Date, Overthinking, dog scheming, fretting, self-inflicted angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22071118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scholarlydragon/pseuds/scholarlydragon
Summary: As he sat with his arm slung across the back of the couch with an artfully arranged casualness that he most certainly didn’t feel, Hades reflected that, if he were a superstitious being, he’d expect he was completely fucked.Which he wasn’t. Superstitious, at least.The jury was still out on completely fucked.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 138





	Averting Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> With much thanks to Jessy, les4love, Alulah, and Diana.
> 
> _______________
> 
> “I should tell you, I’m disaster.  
> I forget how to begin it.”  
> “Let’s just make this part go faster.  
> I have yet to be in it.”  
> \- “I Should Tell You” Rent
> 
> _______________

Hades was not a superstitious being.

Things happened. Some explainable, some not. He’d had too many conversations with the Fates over the centuries to be able to attribute random chance to their caprices. They mostly just wanted to get their jobs done. Pranks were for lesser creatures.

Similarly, he’d never seen much point in blaming a poor turn of events on the fact that he hadn’t worn a particular pair of socks. Or that he’d turned left from his office instead of right to make his way to a morning staff meeting. In over two millennia of running a sprawling business and realm, he’d seen too much laziness, ineptitude, and willful stupidity to blame superstitious quirks for ill events.

However, after 2000-something-ish years, if anything could have made him believe in superstition, it would have been preparing for this dinner date.

He’d burned the moussaka, to start with.

Centuries of cooking and he hadn’t burned a dish since he’d been the rankest amateur. But fretting had become pacing had become Cerberus and Big John pressing solicitous, wet noses into his hands as he’d sat on the couch and tried not to tremble while pretending that he was succeeding in not counting the minutes.

He’d actually been successful in not sending anxious queries regarding arrival time. This, only because he had deliberately left his phone in his office. Which hadn’t stopped furtive attempts to retrieve it. Several of the dogs, as though aware of their master’s fretful state, had blocked the hall whenever he’d made a move, concealing canine mutiny behind affable panting.

After a few exploratory skirmishes, Hades had given up when, on one attempted flanking maneuver, a second head had flickered into place on Cerberus’ shoulder with a look that said  _ Try me _ .

So, he’d settled back onto the couch, wrung his hands, and lied to himself.

Hades lied to himself that he wasn’t remembering the last time he’d waited on a woman to arrive for dinner.

He lied to himself that the idea of Persephone deciding at the last minute to have other plans didn’t shred his insides.

He lied to himself that he wasn’t wondering where she was and what she was doing right at that moment-  _ was she already on her way? Would she fly over? Had she changed her mind? _ He tumbled over half a dozen scenarios, until he was veering wildly between certainty that the doorbell would ring any second and that Persephone had been so offended by his offer of dinner that she would never speak to him again.

He was, however, honest with himself about leaving the wine in the cabinet. He had no intention of dreaming of Kronos and of being drowned in wine again, whether Persephone showed up or not.

As it became clear he would make no further bids for the hall, the dogs edged over and draped themselves in various ways around the living room. Russell, Fudge, and JP contented themselves with the dog beds in the corner. Mushroom and Cerberus boldly claimed the couch, knowing full well that they weren’t allowed, but counting on the distraction of the impending dinner. Cordon Bleu still hovered to the side, disapproving of everything. Big John delicately laid her head on Hades’ knee and stared up with soulful brown eyes.

As he scratched the silky white ears, Hades tried valiantly to allow himself to be distracted, and mostly succeeded. Unfortunately, this distraction extended to watching the clock for the oven as well as watching the clock for his date’s arrival.

As it happened, the faint scent of scorching sauce tickled his nostrils at the exact same time as the doorbell rang. With the excited baying of six dogs and the indifferent yips of a seventh sounding, Hades wavered, indecisive. In the end, he decided scorched was scorched and the moussaka was unlikely to burst into flame in the next few minutes. The same could not be said for his own state if he arrived at the door to find Persephone gone after being made to wait while he rescued their dinner.

The second portent of ill occurred when, upon opening the door, instead of greeting Persephone, he had blurted out, “I burned the moussaka.”

She had blinked and, after a few moments, murmured some reassurance about how she was sure it was fine. Hades couldn’t focus on the particular words past the clamoring thoughts that she looked beautiful, she was finally at his house again, and  _ oh, Fates, you idiot, why was that the first thing you said?! _

Finally, he’d managed to extract the foot from his mouth and usher her inside, offering to take her coat, and showing her into the dining room where the table was already set, before nearly bolting to the kitchen to rescue the moussaka.

It didn’t look too badly burned, all things considered. Overly browned on top, but not black by any means.  _ Hopefully it will still taste all right. _ He carried the pan out to where Persephone waited, a soft smile on her lips. Blushing deeply as he always seemed to at any sign of affection from her, Hades cleared his throat as he placed the pan on its waiting trivet, informed her that the dish would need to rest for a time before serving- refraining from mentioning that the intended rest time had been occupied by his being lost in fretful thought on the couch- and offered her some of the dishes of olives, bread, and cheese waiting on the table. Persephone had accepted, her smile widening and drawing a commensurately deeper blush from him, and dinner began.

In hindsight, tasting the scorched moussaka was part of the same mishap that had heralded his misfortunes. However, once the dish had rested and been served, then tasted, it was difficult not to consider the burned flavor of the white sauce as a woe unto itself. Especially when Persephone’s face had frozen into a polite smile on a taste. She had gamely tried to eat more of it, they both did, but the appetizers and hors d'oeuvre had depleted more than the main meal by the time all was said and done.

The only saving grace had been that conversation had flowed easily enough. Despite his nerves, Hades could never deny that Persephone was easy to talk to. She had been as warmly affectionate as always, but despite all that, there had been a reservation to her demeanor, some bit of holding back that had no immediate answer. At a loss to explain it, Hades had fretted over the cause through the remainder of the meal. It had to have been the moussaka failure. Or his damn lack of a filter when he’d opened the door. Perhaps she was reconsidering the entire dating idea… By the time they’d finished, his stomach was in knots around the olives, bread, and burned moussaka.

Now, as he sat with his arm slung across the back of the couch with an artfully arranged casualness that he most certainly didn’t feel, and Persephone sat silent next to him, the space between them seeming a yawning gulf, Hades reflected that, if he  _ were _ a superstitious being, he’d expect he was completely fucked.

Which he wasn’t. Superstitious, at least.

The jury was still out on completely fucked.

Persephone sat quietly, her eyes on her hands in her lap, her fingers slowly twisting together.

He couldn’t decide if it would be worse to have her throw a metaphorical drink in his face and storm out or let the evening be as it was and amiably leave.

Persephone sighed, settling slightly closer- her shoulder brushed his ribs and Hades’ heart nearly stopped- and looked up at him. “Hades,” she murmured, “why are we doing this?”

Dire fears clamored through him.

“Um. Doing what precisely?” Hades was pleased that he managed to speak at all through the sere dryness of his throat. 

She lifted one hand and waved it between the two of them. “ _ This. _ This whole thing. It’s been going on for so long…”

Fates. Was this it? He swallowed hard, studiously ignoring the ache blooming somewhere in his chest. “I-if you don’t want to, then…” His words failed just as Persephone twisted around to look at him, her eyes wide in confusion.

“If I don’t want to…? Hades, what are you talking about?”

He wrenched his attention away from her gorgeous eyes and made himself speak past the lump in his throat. “I know things haven’t been ideal. If this is too much… if you’d rather not bother…”

Persephone clambered up to kneel on the couch next to him, her face earnestly intense, full lips pursed, and plucked his hand from the back of the couch to clasp between her own. The size difference in their hands might have been laughable in any other circumstances, but all Hades could think of was how the warm tickle of her fingers against his palm pulled an entirely different ache from his chest.

“Hades,” she said softly, “how could you think I wouldn’t want to bother?”

He shrugged miserably. “We’ve been through so much. This evening by itself hasn’t been too fabulous. I just… wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to burden yourself with emotional baggage and burned moussaka.”

Persephone smiled softly, her eyes closing, and lifted his hand to press it to her cheek, her own hand holding it in place. Hades’ heart stuttered. His fingertips curled instinctively into the silk of her hair, brushing it behind her ear.

“Is that what you think?” Her voice was soft. Hades tried desperately to control his trembling.

“I just wouldn’t blame you. I know I’m a-a lot to take.”

Persephone’s smile widened and she looked up at him as she turned her head slightly to press a kiss to his palm. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing, your majesty.” Hades watched her, speechless. Persephone lowered their hands, but kept his clasped warmly in hers. “I have never done well with trying to hide affection. If I like someone, in  _ any _ way, I’d much rather let them know it.”

His fingers burned with the memory of her grasp in a twilit garden and a thousand other small touches. Hades swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “I’ve noticed that about you.”

She laughed sweetly. “I’d be shocked if you hadn’t. However, I think perhaps I haven’t done as well as I should have if you are still harboring doubts.” Her gaze caught his, pure affection in her magenta eyes. “I also should apologize for my phrasing earlier. I should never have made it sound the way I did. I’m sorry.” Hades was certain that he would not be able to force words past the hammering of his heart, but he managed somehow.

“Apology accepted.”

Her smile crinkled the corners of her eyes adorably. “Since that’s settled, let’s start over just a bit with the goal of removing those doubts of yours.” She looked down at their hands, watching as her finger circled his knuckles. “So… I think by this point in our acquaintance, we have established that I care about you as my friend.”

Despite his fears, Hades smiled. “I agree that this has been established.” That was incontrovertible fact, regardless of his other worries.

“Given that, it follows that I would enjoy spending time with you, does it not?”

“I-it does.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, the warmth in her eyes catching his breath in his throat. “Hades, when you asked me on this date, did you think that I would say no?”

It took him a moment to respond. “I, uh… was afraid that you might. Or that you would change your mind afterward.”

The adorable smile returned. His heart ached. “Hades, I enjoy spending time with you to the point that it never occurred to me to say no. It never occurred to me to reconsider.” She winked at him. “Even in the face of burned moussaka. So we have our base facts. You mentioned emotional baggage and that you are a lot to take. Let’s take those one at a time, starting with the first.”

Hades closed his eyes and turned away a little, shame pulsing through him.  _ She doesn’t need your bullshit mucking up her life. _ “Y- you are young. You deserve better than someone with my kind of past.”

The gentle touch of her hand on his cheek turned him back to face her. The tiny, intimate contact set his heart to stuttering. When Hades opened his eyes, he found her looking at him with the same softly affectionate gaze. “Hades, how long have you been ruler here?”

“About 2000 years.”

“That is a very long time to do anything. A lot can happen to and with a being in that time. I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to live that long, but it doesn’t matter to me what went on before. You are you. I  _ care _ about  _ you _ . What matters to me is now.”

Memories flitted through him. Past encounters filled with fervent hope, all dashed in the end by apathy or self-interest. No one had ever simply wanted to be with him for  _ him _ . Until now. Persephone edged slightly closer.

“Now, the second point. That you are a lot to take.”

His breath hitched, as much from her nearness as from his apprehension over the discussion. Her knees brushed the outside of his thigh, her hand still cupped his cheek. His pulse seemed to be veering between pounding and skipping beats.

“I don’t have the best reputation. Few beings have a favorable opinion of me. Plus, I look so much like my f-father. Kronos’ reputation tends to carry.”

“Hades,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb over his cheek, “ _ are _ you Kronos?”

“N-no, but-”

She interrupted gently. “So, in addition to our other established facts, we’ve established you are not your tyrant father. But let us back up just slightly.” She came even closer, turning to face him, their thighs pressed together. Enraptured in her eyes, Hades couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to. “I have spent most of my life caring about the good opinion of others because I was told I needed to. Once I stopped to think about it, I realized I didn’t really care all that much. I don’t care a fig for the good opinion of the realms. Your reputation is not you. I care about  _ you _ .” Her small fingers stroked slowly over the back of his hand. Without waiting for his reply, she went on, “We’ve established that I enjoy your company, that I care about you, and that I only care about your past to the point that it made you who you are today. I’d like to establish something else. If you’re amenable that it.”

Struggling to keep his voice steady, Hades rasped, “I’m amenable.”

The look she gave him through her lashes drew out an undignified groan, and Persephone leaned up to brush a kiss against his lips. The contact was brief. She drew back after only a moment, but barely. Her lips still hovered a scant distance from his as though she could not bear to retreat further.

“I want to be with you, Hades,” she whispered, brushing another kiss against his lips, her breath warm on his face. “I  _ choose _ to be with you.”

As her lips brushed over his once more and she smiled, Hades reflected that establishing facts was as good a way as any to avert portended disaster. Especially if one was a fret prone king. As he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, deepening the kiss, his last fleeting consideration before his attention turned entirely to her, was that the logic and kisses of a tiny, spring goddess were an excellent remedy for superstitious worry. If he was superstitious. 

Which he, of course, was not.


End file.
